


Proud.

by raccodactyl



Series: Good Thing [9]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: All plot, Dialogue driven, Intense Conversation, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, and if it means making dutch act a little ooc then so be it, i just want my boys to be happy, lots of fluff, slightly ooc dutch, very much not a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raccodactyl/pseuds/raccodactyl
Summary: Things get a bit tense when Charles hands over a letter from Dutch requesting to meet up and chat.





	Proud.

**Author's Note:**

> holy fucking shit it really has been a whole month since i've updated. promise i'm not abandoning this story, life just creeps up on your sometimes. not too much of this story left to tell so i can only hope to keep writing in a way that makes you lovely people happy. so many thank yous to each of you that have stuck with this story through and through, really means the whole world. never thought a little trope-ridden fic would lead to a multichapter deal, but hey, i'll do anything but complain about it

You woke up to the gentle scratches of Arthur’s beard on your collar bone. He shifted, letting his weight fall on you as he pressed slow, innocent kisses to your shoulder. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. He made his way up towards your face, leaving fleeting kisses on your jaw and towards your ear. 

 

“G’morning,” he whispered, his voice thick with sleep. 

 

You let yourself nuzzle into his cheek and you could feel the tug of a smile on his face. He met your eyes with his own as you late out a lazy, “Morning.”

 

He gave a quick peck to your lips before rolling off of you, nestling himself in close and letting his head rest on your shoulder, one arm laying over your belly. 

 

“What time is it,” you asked with a yawn. 

 

“Not sure, ‘bout nine maybe? Heard some noise inside the house so I’m assuming.”

 

“Nine? Jesus, we slept in.”

 

“Feels good though,” he replied, “We never get to do this.”

 

“Can’t fight you there. You definitely needed the rest.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been busting your ass for weeks. Swear I’ve caught you sleepin’ on your feet a few times now,” he teased.

 

“Alright, bear. I swear you’ve got a gift for sleeping anywhere and everywhere.”

 

“Bear? Where’d that come from?”

 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Heard some foreign folks in the city say Arthur meant ‘bear.’ Think it suits you.”

 

He let out a “hmm,” and nothing more.

 

“What’s ‘hmm’ supposed to mean?”

 

He moved to support himself on one of his elbows, “Means I think you’re cute.”

 

A light blush rose to your cheeks which only made him smile wider. You moved up to give him a kiss which he gladly accepted. The two of you broke apart and sat with each other, no rush to head inside just yet. 

 

Only the bottom few buttons of his shirt were done up, leaving most of his torso exposed. You placed your hand against his chest, letting it trace along to find the raised scars from the bear attack that had brought you two closer seemingly a lifetime ago.

 

He seemed to take notice of your actions, “You know I still think about that day quite a lot.”

 

His voice snapped you out of your trance, bringing your attention back to where you sat. “What about it?”

 

“Whole lotta little parts I remember. Remember you finding me, taking charge and shooting the absolute hell outta that bear. You got me patched up and took me back to Horseshoe and looked all guilty while the women patched me up,” he reminisced.

 

“I was scared shitless when I found you. Hated seeing you like that. Biggest fear will always be losing you. You know that.”

 

“Sure as hell do after you grilled me that day,” he smirked, “I did appreciate it, though. That’s not my most fond memory of those few days, though.”

 

“Really,” you furrowed your brow, “Doesn’t seem you’d have a favorite part of a bear attack.”

 

“Not the damn bear attack, dumbass,” he laughed, “Are you telling me you don’t remember?”

 

“I really don’t think I do,” you said, sounding a bit defeated but smiling nonetheless. 

 

He shifted closer to you moving his hand to your face, “The day after, if my memory serves,” he began, running his thumb along your jaw, “You were playing with Jack or helping John with something, don’t remember exactly. Dutch pulled me aside that day and we talked near the outskirts of camp.”

 

You shifted where you sat, moving to sit criss-cross across from him. He let his legs touch yours and one of his hands find your thigh as he continued to recall the day, “Dutch told me a lot about his Annabelle. Told me about just how happy she made him, made him get some of his priorities straight. She tried to tame him but Dutch isn’t the type to settle. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about how she got caught in the mix of the feud between Dutch and Colm. Colm killed her in cold blood to get back at Dutch for something I can’t hardly remember. I’m not doing the story any justice, he tells it better than I ever could, but that’s besides the point. Dutch sat me down and told me about the parts of him and Annabelle that he saw between you and me. He asked all kinds of things ‘bout you and me, mostly about you. I remember,” he paused to smile to himself, “I remember I was rambling off about you for a good while. I trailed off and he just laughed. I looked at him, said, ’The hell are you laughing at?’ He only laughed a little more, shakin’ his head. He looked me dead into the eyes and said, ‘Arthur, son, you really are head over heels for this boy, aren’t ya.’ You know I hate when Dutch gets smart like that, but damn was he right. You came to bed that night and I knew I had to tell you I loved you. And goddamn, look how far we’ve come since then, hm?”

 

You couldn’t help but smile as he finished his story, the memories flooding back and making your heart skip a beat just as it did when you experienced it for the first time. You placed your hand on his jaw, bringing him in for a quick kiss, “I remember now. Remember how excited I was to hear you say it. Karen had teased me for the same thing. Caught me staring at you across camp and had me ready to jump out of my skin when she called me on it.”

 

He chuckled once again, a smile staying on his face, “Seems they knew before we did.”

 

“Sure does seem that way,” you smiled. “I remember that brutally cold night in the Grizzlies, too, and remember just how panicked you were when I told you I knew that you had held me.”

 

“Well, to be fair, most men don’t take too kindly to cuddling. Woke up all frantic to see you in my arms. Didn’t know if I did it or you.”

 

“It was definitely you,” you teased with a laugh, “but shit, I sure did luck out. You burn like a furnace, could never get that warm without you. Would have been a right miserable night without you.”

 

“Glad I could help then.” 

 

The two of you continued to reminisce for a little longer before deciding to head inside. You could hear laughter and conversation from the house as you approached. Charles sat at the table with John and drank their morning coffee as Abigail and Jack flipped through the pages of a book, both of them trying their best to read the words but mostly paying attention to the pictures. 

 

“Mornin’, fellers,” Arthur greeted, nodding his head towards the group

 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Charles responded playfully. 

 

Conversation was simple and easy, as all Sunday mornings should have. Arthur pulled you to sit on his knee as you sipped on your coffee. It was calm, not unlike the night before. John and Abigail went outside, deciding to look around the property for a while, leaving you and Arthur with Charles.

 

The room went quiet after a good while and you meddled around with your fingers, trying to work up the courage to ask the question the occupied your mind. With a deep breath and tense muscles, you looked up to Charles. “I’m sorry to ask, but…” you trailed off, “How’s Dutch?”

 

Charles took a moment, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. He wiped his chin with his hand and let out a sigh. “If I am being completely honest with you, that’s part of the reason I’m here. Dutch is, well, heightened, to say the least. But, when he found out where I was going, he gave me this,” he said before digging into his pocket and taking out a note.

 

You and Arthur exchanged glances and you took the chair next to him before Charles handed over the letter, nodding for you to open it. You looked back at Arthur once again, “You go on ahead.”

 

“You sure,” you asked back.

 

“I’m sure,” he assured, patting you on the thigh to add emphasis. 

 

With tentative hands, you opened the letter, scanning it over before actually reading it. His handwriting was clean, polished. It looked like a work of art in itself. 

 

_ To the Morgans,  _

 

_ It might not be the best time for me to scatch down my thoughts at this moment as I can’t seem to really get them straight. However, I do know that I wish to talk to the two of you privately. Hosea told me more about the situation, and bless his heart for that, but I need the two of you to tell me face-to-face, man-to-man, and I think you owe me that at the very least. I’ll be around Van Horn for a few days if you would care to meet me there. Just the three of us, no need to bring John, I’m sure you know his reasons better than he does.  _

 

_ Arthur _ _ \- son, know I love you. I don’t want a fight, I just want you to be honest and  _ _ talk _ _ to me _

 

_ Y/N _ _ \-  know I care for you like my own. I trust you, I do.  _

 

_ I won’t beg, but please, just do this for me.  _

 

_ -Dutch _

 

You handed the note over to Arthur as you took the time to process, keeping your lip between your teeth as you contemplated his words. Dutch wasn’t a bad man, only troubled, and this lifestyle was getting to him. Charles got up from the table and walked outside toward where John stood, a cigarette between his lips. 

 

Arthur nodded his head and folded the letter back the way it was and resting it on the table. You took one of his hands and pressed it to your face, closing your eyes and really thinking about what you just read. 

 

You looked up at him, peering over the hand you placed on your face and mumbled, “Whatcha wanna do?”

 

He came closer to you, moving his hand just slightly to caress your cheek and letting his free hand rest on your thigh. He took a moment before responding, “I don’t know really. I mean, I don’t think it’ll hurt any, but I don’t know if it’ll do us any good neither.”

 

“He did say it was just gonna be the three of us, so maybe things will be alright. Seems like he just wants to talk, maybe ask why we left. I don’t see the harm. Maybe it won’t be productive, but there’s nothing to lose.”

 

He nodded his head and you pressed a light kiss to his palm. 

 

“You wanna head out soon then,” he asked.

 

“Whenever you’re ready, bear.”

 

“Really trying to make that stick, are ya, darlin’?”

 

“I’m a man on a mission. I will make it last if it’s the last thing I do,” you said back with a smile. 

 

He pulled you up for a good kiss as the two of you took to your feet. You looked up at him, finding a soft look in his eyes. “What was that for?”

 

“Nothin’,” he smiled to himself, earnest and sweet. “I love you.”

 

_ Always seems to know when I need to hear it, _ you thought to yourself. You pressed another kiss to his lips, letting this one linger a bit longer than the previous. “Love you more.”

 

“Mm, I don’t know about that one.”

 

You and Arthur dug in to find clean clothes and eat a little something before getting on with your day. You tugged on your boots and fastened your belt before heading back outside towards the hitching post, Arthur following close behind. To your surprise, you found Charles saddling up.

 

“Where you goin’,” Arthur asked.

 

“Going back to camp. They need me there,” he replied simply.

 

“Don’t be a stranger,” you said back.

 

“You’re always welcome to come by here,” Arthur added.

 

“Don’t you worry about me. It won’t be long before you see me again, I’m sure of it.”

 

You gave your final goodbyes before Charles rode away. You mounted your horses before riding towards where John and Abigail sat on a hill, Jack digging in the mud not too far away. You told them where you were going and started on your route to Van Horn. The ride was fairly quiet, you and Arthur just talking about the environment around you. It wasn’t too long of a ride, but it was enough to make it annoyingly far away. Too short to make a day of the trip, but too long to get much done outside of it. 

 

The smell of the water hit you just before the lighthouse came into view. You hitched your horses outside of the post office and walked the streets. Dutch wasn’t hard to find, his voice carried through the thin walls of the saloon. Arthur pushed through the doors and instantly, Dutch’s eyes found the two of you from his place in front of the bar. He gave you both a nod before taking a table in the corner, at least slightly away from the others that crowded the saloon. You paid for a few beers before following Dutch and taking a seat at the worn, wooden table. 

 

You and Arthur sat with your backs to the wall, Dutch across from you with an odd look in his eyes that read as somewhat pained. It took time for him to finally break the silence. 

 

“Mr. Morgan,” he nodded towards Arthur. “Mr - uh… Morgan. Mr. Morgan,” he said towards you.

 

“Dutch,” Arthur replied back. 

 

The tension was palpable, the air feeling thick as you tried to look anywhere but Dutch’s face. Arthur, on the other hand, stood strong, not willing to start the conversation. He held his ground, making it clear that as Dutch was the one that wanted to have the conversation, he would start it. 

 

Dutch soon broke, “I’m not going to play coy. I just want an explanation, more than the one you gave me.”

 

You went to speak but Arthur took the lead, knowing Dutch would hear his voice more than yours. “It’s nothing you did, Dutch. It’s what this life entails. I don’t like running, and I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager. It was just time for me,  _ for us _ , to leave.”

 

“We were gonna head west, Arthur. We were gonna set up a homestead for the whole gang, why couldn’t you follow me through with that.”

 

“We’ve been all over and things haven’t changed,” he deadpanned, “I wanted to, I really did, but I can’t justify what we was doing.”

 

“I gave you everything I had, son,” he replied, the pain coming through his voice. 

 

“This isn’t about you,” Arthur said firmly, “This isn’t about what you did or didn’t do. You’ve had me for the better part of my life. I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done, but now, with a price on my head in almost every state from California to New York, I’m done running.”

 

“So you settle for some shithole in Ambarino?”

 

“I didn’t settle for shit,” he snapped, “I found a home. I hope you can find peace somewhere, find a place where you can live the life you’ve envisioned since I was a boy, but I’m done looking. I’ve got everything I need and I’m not going to risk that for anything.”

 

Dutch sat back in his chair, looking a bit defeated. He took a long sip of his beer and Arthur seemed to grow more solemn. 

 

“Dutch,” Arthur started, Dutch barely looking up at him. “The only way I can think to put it is this…”

 

Dutch sat up, seeming a bit more interested and nodded for Arthur to continue. 

 

Arthur looked him in the eyes, a tender look on his face like he was already regretting what hadn’t even left his mouth yet. He took his time before finally speaking and laying it out flat.

 

“I almost lost my Annabelle.”

 

Dutch’s eyes closed tight and fists clenched as inhaled sharply. Your own stomach dropped at the line, knowing Arthur was pushing the envelope a bit, but Dutch needed things spoken outright, he didn’t like taking gentle hints. You were but a fly on the wall in this conversation, you knew not to insert yourself, but Arthur kept one of his lefts nudged against yours, reminding you he was still there.

 

Before Dutch could combat the statement, Arthur cut him off. “Colm’s boys took him to prove a point in a fight that he had  _ absolutely _ nothing to do with. If I haven’t heard you say a thousand times, ‘What I wouldn’t give to go back and change things.’ I had a close call, a real close call. I’m not losing him, definitely not to goddamn Colm O’Driscoll, and I know damn well you’d do the same thing if you were in my position. Don’t act like there’s no reason behind my actions, Dutch, you know I’d never turn my back on you, but this, this life that we’ve been leading, it ain’t worth it to me no more.”

 

Dutch nodded his head, letting the words set it, yet for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, Dutch took a long moment to respond. 

 

“For outspoken as you are, you do have a real way with words,” he replied. “As hard of a time I’ll have with it, I respect your decision.” Your eyes went wide at the response, but he only continued on. “You do right, live in the way I taught you. Don’t be a stranger, you always know how to find me. And Arthur, would you mind if me and Y/N had a moment.”

 

Arthur shot you a look and you nodded, making sure he knew you were alright with it. “Sure,” Arthur said as he got up from the table, moving to go watch the blackjack game in the back of the saloon. You sat up at the table and met Dutch’s gaze, feeling slightly intimidated but knowing there couldn’t be much to worry about. 

 

“Don’t look so scared,” Dutch teased lightly, “I don’t bite… much.”

 

It got a chuckle out of you and you loosened up a bit, “Sure. How you keepin’?”

 

“Just about as well as I can given the circumstances. I’m not mad at either of you, only a little hurt you couldn’t tell me to my face in the first place, but I can understand why you felt that way. Main reason I wanted to talk to you personally is because Hosea had quite a lot to say about you. He was the one that talked me down after I found out you were gone. He only sang your praises and reminded me this was a mutual decision you and Arthur came to.”

 

“I’m sorry for not coming to you,” you replied steadily. “Wasn’t the best way for us to go about it.”

 

“Don’t talk down about yourself so soon. Hosea told me about the conversation you had the day you left. I’m proud of the two of you, I truly am. Arthur doesn’t much like it when I talk to him about these types of things, so I’m hoping you’ll pass that message to him, but back to the main reason I wanted to speak. You’re good for my boy. You very well might be the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to him and I hope you don’t take that lightly. Hell, I see parts of you in each other. Seems the two of you are even starting to talk in the same way, developing each other’s ticks. I had a love like yours once, and if you lose it,  you never get it back. 

 

You know, I’ve never worried too much about John. I’ve wanted him to leave for a while, not right to keep Jack in that situation, but Arthur, I thought he’d stay around ‘til the end. You came around and the thought did enter my mind, I knew it was a possibility that he might want to, but I always brushed it off. Guess I didn’t know what to do when the day actually came to be.”

 

“We didn’t tell anybody we were going until it was far too late to change our plan. You’ve got a right to be shocked, it wasn’t something anybody could have predicted,” you replied.

 

“As it always should be. Stay low, don’t let people get on your tail. If I could have taught you anything, it’s that,” he said lightly, a small smile on his face. “I know exactly why you did what you did, and Arthur wasn’t wrong in his statement. I’d do anything to change the past, and you’re doing what I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m damn proud of the both of you. So damn proud. And I won't lie, when Hosea told me you were going by Morgan, it made me real happy.”

 

“Feels good to say it’s my name,” you smiled back. “Makes things feel more official, even if we couldn’t get things done officially.”

 

“Now, I don’t want to impose, and of course it’s just an idea, you’re welcome to shoot it down, but what if we did something for the two of you. Just a get-together, considering we never properly celebrated the two of you gettin’ hitched.”

 

A smile tugged your lips, “You’d do that for us?”

 

“Absolutely,” he smiled back, “Especially after gettin’ all this out, it’s the least we could do.”

 

“Ah shit,” you laughed, “I’d be honored.”

 

“That’s settled then. Arthur, come over here!”

 

“What is it,” he said as he walked over.

 

“Dear boy, we’ll be throwing the two of you a proper wedding reception,” Dutch said with pride. 

 

“Really,” Arthur asked, a big smile on his face. 

 

“Absolutely. We’ll call for next Saturday. I’ll get the ladies to set the party up. We’ll have a lovely time.”

 

Conversation turned more casual, all tension having left as the air was cleared. You and Arthur headed home in the late afternoon, getting back before the sun set. John greeted the two of you happily. 

 

“We’re getting the stuff to start building the house tomorrow,” he said, “Getting a precut ranch to build in that field over yonder.”

 

“Damn, Marston,” Arthur praised. “Things are really coming together, aren’t they.”

 

The rest of the night went slow as you drank around the fire. Abigail turned in early with Jack and you discussed your time with Dutch with the men. It was about 10 when the three of you decided to call it, all of you being able to sleep on a bed for the first time in forever. Today was a good day, undeniably so, but it was only the beginning. 


End file.
